


The Ergate

by Ornament_of_Rhyme



Category: The Thing (2011 van Heijningen)
Genre: Earring Shipping, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-16 10:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11827209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ornament_of_Rhyme/pseuds/Ornament_of_Rhyme
Summary: Slowly, she continued, “Now that we can prove the existence of other lifeforms, I can't help feeling... insignificant.”“That is a tough one to shake.” He paused and shifted on his feet. “The way I see it, even if we're just some ants in the dirt, we're all essential to the ecosystem. Some of us make these huge, you know, world-changing discoveries, like you, and some of us fly those people where they need to be and then loaf around for a few days.”





	The Ergate

Far into the flight, and Sam Carter only just settled on an ice breaker. He threw caution to the wind—the very aggressive, freezing wind—and turned to Jameson.

“Hey,” he prodded. His co-pilot gave him a lazy look from behind his aviators. Sam nodded over his shoulder. “Is she U.S.?”  
  
“Mmhmm.” Ah. So Jameson had noticed her, too. Of course, he thought. It would be hard not to.  
  
There were three passengers in the care of the Sea King's helicopter crew: two men; one pomp and aging, one young and scraggly looking; and a woman, Lloyd, he thought she was called. Her insistence on reading as they flew to Thule was admirable, even more so when he glanced back for the third or fourth time—He was being subtle, right? He was being subtle.—and found her smiling down at her book. He stared, probably for a second too long, and saw her smile widen. Amusement looked great on her.  
  
Swallowing the hesitation, Sam removed his glasses and turned around. Now her smile was aimed at Griggs, his dozing crewman, which made motioning for her attention easier. She looked over with eyes both bright and dark at once. He gestured to his headset before pointing at the one hanging beside her. Catching the meaning, she took them up and put them on.  
  
“I was hoping maybe you could help me with something,” he began. She waited for him to continue. “I-I can't seem to get a hold of a newspaper that's not, you know, three weeks old, and I'm a man kind of in desperate need of a certain information.”  
  
“Carter, don't do this to yourself, man,” Jameson said. Sam couldn't tell exactly which 'this' he was referring to.  
  
The amusement was back, pulling at her mouth. “And what information would that be?”  
  
Now came time for his desperate bid of a topic: “I wanna know how the Cavaliers are doin'.”  
  
“Mm.” Her lips twisted regretfully. “I don't follow football.”  
  
“It's a basketball team,” he said dumbly. “They play basketball.”  
  
“Barely,” Jameson cut in, chuckling. “They're the Cavaliers, man.”  
  
Sam shook his head at himself.  
  
He looked back at her again, and she regarded him with sympathy. “Sorry I couldn't help you.”  
  
“No, that's alright.” Not wanting to end on that note, he added, “Hey listen, so you guys know, whatever y'all are doin', you might want to wrap it up in a couple of days.”  
  
“Yeah, why's that?” she asked.  
  
“There's a storm movin' in,” slurred a lethargic Griggs from her left. “Nasty one.”  
  
“Good morning, Griggs.” To Lloyd, Sam said, “Yeah. He's right. And the last place that you want to be is cooped up with a dozen Norwegian guys.”  
  
Griggs laughed, and Lloyd's beautiful smile returned.  
  
“Trust me.” With that, Sam finally turned back to the cockpit.  
  
Upon landing, some of the Thule team herded her and the two other men of her party into a snowcat and took off, leaving the base behind. He asked someone where they were headed, but couldn't get more than a cursory answer.  
  
As long as she was returning, that's all he cared about. She was something different, that much he could tell already. Something special. Someone already more engaging than anyone he'd encountered in months.  
  
And damn it all if he would let her pass him by.

 

tTtTtTt

 

He was fortunate enough to run into her later that night in the long hallway that cut through the main building. She came from one direction, he was leaving the dining area, and they would have collided were it not for his quick feet.  
  
She chuckled, holding a hand over her heart. “That should keep my blood flowing.”  
  
“Yeah, sorry about that.” He stuck out his hand. “Sam Carter. Your pilot.”  
  
Meeting him in a short handshake, she replied, “I remember. Kate Lloyd. The paleontologist.”  
  
“Kate.” He tried out the name, one he'd heard a thousand times throughout his life, but never appreciated the sound of until now. “I don't suppose you can tell me what this top secret project of yours is about. Everyone goes quiet when I pass by; I'm startin' to think there's a joke I'm missin' out on.”  
  
A playful smile spread over her face. “I'm not sure what project you're talking about. But that joke's a sidesplitter. It's the one about the American pilot who's holding out for a failing basketball team.”  
  
In his surprise, he burst out laughing. “No one can say I'm not a loyal man.”  
  
She opened her mouth to reply, but not before a duo of shouting men pealed out of a room further down the hall, running their way.  
  
The man ahead, Peder, the second in command, waved around a magazine like it were a trophy. "Colin is as sexually frustrated as the rest of us! I told you! Jonas! Jonas!"  
  
Behind him sprinted the Englishman, who was flushed with fury. "You're as good as dead! I swear to Christ, they'll scour the whole bleeding continent and never find your body!”  
  
Just in time to avoid a clash, Sam and Kate pressed back against the walls. They stared after the spectacle, while some others peered out of the line of doorways to do the same, up until the two men reached the elbow at the end of the hall and took a sharp turn out of sight. Colin bounced off the far wall, nearly toppling over, but somehow he managed to keep his feet under him. Despite the distance, the sound of their yelling hardly faded.  
  
Everyone chattered to themselves or their companions and disappeared back into the rooms, leaving Sam and Kate to share a look that said neither could explain what they had witnessed.  
  
Those two bozos must have shattered the spell of their moment, because Kate then jabbed a thumb at the end of the hallway. “I have to find Halvorson,” she said.  
  
“Sure, sure.” Halvorson was one of the few people he could name at the moment, though only out of self-preservation. It helped him to most thoroughly avoid the tight-ass with the scathing looks. “Don't let him chew your head off.”  
  
As she walked away, she turned enough to show her fingers crossing. “It's only day one.”  
  
Once she was gone, he blinked at the wall across from him. Where was he headed again? He couldn't recall, so he elected to find Jameson or Griggs, and absent-mindedly began scanning the rooms.  
  
Kate the paleontologist. Probably far too intelligent for a guy like him, but she would be well worth the effort.  
  
He found his crew sitting on the bottom beds in their sleeping quarters.  
  
“Hey,” greeted Jameson as soon as he spotted Sam. He promptly turned back to Griggs. “There is no such thing as aliens, man.”  
  
“I recon that's what it is.” Griggs looked exasperated. Clearly this was not a fresh conversation. “What do you think?”  
  
Suddenly two sets of eyes were boring into Sam. He sighed. “Show it to me, Griggs, and then it's real. As far as I can tell, we may never find out why we're here.”  
  
Jameson looked smug as Sam climbed up to his bunk. The pilot stretched out on the bed, crossing his ankles and lacing his hands behind his head.  
  
“Griggsey,” he said after a time.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Your wife's a smart woman.”  
  
“That she is.”  
  
“What does she see in you?”  
  
Jameson collapsed into his mattress laughing.  
  
“Nah,” said Griggs. “See, if that secret gets out, someone'll come snatch her away from me.”  
  
“Never even crossed my mind,” Sam said to the ceiling.  
  
“Well now that you mention it...” Jameson joked.  
  
Griggs ignored him, standing. He patted Sam on the knee. “You're plenty smart, Sam. You got nothing to worry about.”  
  
He went to leave the room and added, “But next time, come up with a better pickup line. I bet Derek the Doll Collector over there has some you could borrow.”

 

tTtTtTt

 

The following morning was largely uneventful, at least for the Sea Kings, (as they liked to refer to themselves). While much of the Thule team and their three guests had set out to retrieve whatever it was they were so mum about, Sam, Jameson, and Griggs were left to wander the building. When that immediately went stale, they agreed to have a cup of coffee outside. Maybe they hoped one of them would develop frostbite. At least it would be an event.  
  
It was there, lounging on a folding chair at the base of a stairwell, that Sam got to witness the scientists carting in an enormous block of ice.  
  
“What the hell is that?” Jameson squinted at the parade of snowcats.  
  
Griggs swallowed hard on his gulp of coffee, then rasped out, “I'm tellin' you...”  
  
“I don't wanna hear it,” snapped Jameson. He emptied the rest of his flask into his mug.

For the rest of the afternoon, the scientists were glued to their new project. They flitted about like bees, and never went near a seat of any kind. He would be willing to bet they hadn't eaten at all that day, either.

Their boundless excitement was tantalizing, just out of reach while boredom gnawed at Sam, and eventually he became determined to sate it. Specifically, by seeking information on the scientists' mysterious project.  
  
Lurking in a room just outside the workshop, propped against a wall where he wouldn't be spotted easily, he paged sightlessly through a book from the shelf to his left. All this in the hopes of catching wind of their secret find. It wasn't eavesdropping. He was reading; it wasn't his fault if the scientists spoke too loud as they darted around the area.  
  
It was difficult to glean specifics, but occasionally someone would pass by in the hall, chattering to a partner about what sounded like a bizarre lifeform. The more he heard, he couldn't help but entertain the notion that perhaps Griggsey was right after all...  
  
When there was a long enough gap between passersby that allowed time to focus on the words sitting before his eyes, he had to face the reality that the book in his hands was not written in English. It was not a long moment of shame, however, as he was pulled out of it when a lone someone left the workshop. He peered into the hall just long enough to see it was Kate, and not a second longer. A beat later, another person trailed inside.

"Kate. Just a second.” The voice belonged to Halvorson. “In the future, don't contradict me in front of those people again.”

“I just thought—“

“You're not here to think. You're here to get a thing safely out of the ice.”

There was a pause.

As though he hadn't just humiliated her so coolly, Halvorson said, “I hope we understand each other.”  
  
And then the son of a bitch returned to the workshop.  
  
She didn't move again for a few minutes, but once she did, his ear tuned in to the tread of her boots. She sequestered herself in the next room over, which had a clear view of his position on account of there being an open doorway in the middle of their shared wall. If she got any further into her room, she would certainly spot him.

So as not to be seen, he slipped into the hallway, placing the book on a shelf there, and listening as she came to a stop in the other room. She let out a sigh.  
  
He would be remiss to let her stew over Halvorson's comments. Such an emotionally barren man didn't deserve the strain of hers.  
  
Before he knew it, he followed the hall to the next doorway and rested his shoulder against the jamb.  
  
Leaning on the table in the center, blindly staring into the room he'd just abandoned, Kate didn't notice his presence until he said, “Yeah I got this theory about bosses. You wanna hear it?”

She turned. He took the minuscule twitch of her lips as permission to continue.

“You just don't have 'em.”

Giving credit where it's due, even though his joke fell flat, she did muster up a pity laugh. He thought it was pretty admirable. As was her attempt to maintain a smile for him.

“You okay?” he asked, coming further into the room.

As she slipped on her gloves, her usual poise returned. “Yeah. Yeah.” she said. “I'll be fine.”

This talk would be over fast, he could tell, and that rushed a certain question to the forefront of his mind. She hadn't answered before, but this time seemed different somehow, so he asked once more, “Is it true?” Her face went blank. “You know, what you found?” He couldn't tell how he would react, whatever the answer.

“I don't really think it's my place, so...“

“Well, I'm gonna have to put, you know, whatever this is on my helicopter.” As he spoke, he could see amusement starting to rinse away the hard blankness of her expression, so he rambled on, “And I'm kind of a superstitious guy, so if, you know, I'm gonna put some kind of, like, green man with—“

“It's true,” Kate said.

All he could do was stand there, speechless.

“Yeah.” She made a horrible sound between a laugh and a scoff. “It's true. We have a whole specimen in the workshop.”

Forcing the words into motion, he noted, “You're pretty calm about all this.”

“Only on the outside.” Slowly, she continued, “Now that we can prove the existence of other lifeforms, I can't help feeling... insignificant.”

“That is a tough one to shake.” He paused and shifted on his feet. “The way I see it, even if we're just some ants in the dirt, we're all essential to the ecosystem. Some of us make these huge, you know, world-changing discoveries, like you, and some of us fly those people where they need to be and then loaf around for a few days.”

Tiredness came over her like a shade, but when she quirked her lips it was genuine. “A pilot _and_ a philosopher,” she ribbed.

Sam shrugged. “Gotta fill all this spare time somehow.”

“I suppose you guys are probably a little bored,” she agreed.

“It wouldn't be so bad if I could find something to read that's in English.”

Kate chewed on this. “I would offer the book I brought along, but I gave it to Juliette. Ask Colin. The radio operator. He probably has something.”

Honestly, he couldn't tell if that was a reference to the scene in the hall the night before, of if it was genuine advice. Either way, Colin could keep his porn mags, thank you.

Blessedly, he didn't have to answer because she noticed the window cut into the far wall and said, “I'm sure you could rope someone into a snowball fight.”

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. “I can't do that kinda thing anymore.”

A dry, expectant look was cast his way.

“Well, see, in elementary school, every winter our PE teacher would take our classes up to the middle school's soccer field for a snowball fight. So in fifth grade, my class got carried away. You feel stronger in fifth grade, you know? You're finally the big kids at school.” He set his hip against the desk next to him. “Basically, I blasted a kid in the face so hard it broke his nose.”

Kate nodded along, definitely disbelieving, but kindly continued to humor him.

“The kid cornered me later on the school bus, had me swear to never throw another snowball.”

"So you won't participate in a snowball fight because a fifth grader told you not to.”  
  
Sam flexed his right hand for show. "It's my moral obligation to keep this guy under control."  
  
There was a glimmer in her eye. "Truly a god among men."

He chuckled. “That's the story I tell our families, anyway. Mine and Jameson's. This kid was a bully, and he liked picking on Derek—Jameson. Derek was in charge of the ammunition, so he slipped a rock into the snowball before I threw it. I didn't know what really happened until he told me a couple days later.”

“And people believe your cover story?”

“Not everyone is as sharp as you,” he said.

Kate actually rolled her eyes. “That is—“  
  
"Kate! There you are." A man passing through the hall dipped in when he saw them. It was one of the Norwegians. The one who consistently looked happy as a clam. This time was no different. "We're ready to take the sample."  
  
"Thanks, Jonas." Kate straightened. Sam received one more smile, small but real, and a jump in her brows. "Back to work."

She moved past him, and he pivoted on the spot. “If we get that snowball fight goin', I could use some brains on my team.”

Glancing back with a smirk, she simply said, “We'll see.”  
  
As soon as she was gone, he knew where he needed to go next. Jameson wouldn't like it, but this wasn't something he could keep from them.  
  
Before the rec room so much as came into view, Sam could hear Griggsey's guffaws.  
  
When he entered, he realized the laughter was layered: Griggs' loud laugh over the slightly less boisterous one of another man. For his part, Jameson shook his head at them.  
  
If the fans of cards lying on the table were anything to go by, Jameson and Griggs had been in the middle of a game when this third man, thin, bespectacled, and working what was nearly a bowl cut, was roped into a chat.  
  
Sam took a seat, and Griggs said, "Carter, this is Olav. He's a hoot."  
  
Olav switched the cup he was holding to his other hand so he could shake Sam's.  
  
"Where you been?" Jameson asked him.  
  
Sam was nearly bursting at the seams with the knowledge Kate allowed him, but he was hesitant to expose the fact that he knew to Olav. Instead, he answered, "I told Kate our snowball fight story."  
  
Tossing a cashew in his mouth, Griggs said, “Did she swoon over your raw strength?”  
  
Sam huffed out a small laugh. “She saw right through it. I'm tellin' you, Jameson, I don't think anyone actually believes that story.”  
  
Jameson stretched out on his chair. “As long as Joezilla doesn't find out and come back looking for revenge, I don't care.”  
  
This wasn't stifling the impatient itch as he hoped it would. When Olav began to say, "What story?" Sam cut over him.  
  
"There's something else," he said, tone gone serious. They gave him all of their attention. "It's an alien."  
  
“Damn it, Griggs! You got him sayin' it, too!” Jameson threw an empty beer can at the man. Griggs just smirked.  
  
“No, I'm serious,” Sam said. The two men seemed to shut down at this. Olav shifted uncomfortably.  
  
Griggs recovered first, taking a pull of his own beer. “I knew it.”  
  
Jameson, on the other hand, went stony. He set his cards on the table and scooted his chair back some.  
  
“Talk to me, Derek,” said Sam.  
  
“We need to get out of here,” he replied. “If there's gonna be a takeover, this hell's the last place I want to be. I don't care if it's froze over."  
  
Sam could agree with that. Still, he had to say, “Whatever alien it is, it's probably been dead in that ice for thousands of years. If there was going to be an alien invasion, it would have happened by now.”  
  
"100,000," Olav added.  
  
“Ma's gonna kill me.” Jameson rubbed a hand over his face.  
  
Griggs cocked his brow. “Why's that?”  
  
“Helping out the people who are about to tell the whole world aliens are real?” said Jameson. “I may as well have dug up that thing myself.”  
  
"Actually, I suggest you keep this information to yourselves," Olav said. "If anyone at all finds out before Dr. Halvorson makes this discovery public knowledge, he might skin you alive. And Edvard would help him cover it up."  
  
The Sea Kings shared sober looks.  
  
"I say we go home," Jameson pressed.  
  
"It's not like we can just jump ship," said Sam. "We have to get Kate's team back to the states."  
  
Griggs shrugged. "I kinda like it here."  
  
Jameson blew a big sigh through his nose.  
  
Knocking his boot against Jameson's, Sam reasoned, "Just a couple more days. They'll be ready to leave soon, and then we're outta here.” He carefully skirted around the fact that they would be taking the alien with them. “Right, Olav?"  
  
"Uh. Right."  
  
Jameson sighed again.  
  
"Olav!" came a shout from the hall--Jonas, it must have been. He shouted something else in Norwegian.  
  
Energy seeming to charge him anew, Olav set his cup on the table and hurried off, sending them a farewell over his shoulder.  
  
"I could see Mary liking it down here," Griggs said, gazing around the room. "I wonder if they would let us come down for a vacation."  
  
"You're a weird dude," Jameson muttered.

 

 

tTtTtTt

  
  
Once night fell, as the activity of the day wound down, it appeared the entirety of the encampment flocked to the rec room. Whether talking, drinking, or playing pool, the scientists almost glowed with satisfaction. Sam couldn't imagine what it was like to be one of the first people to prod an alien, which was fine because he didn't want to.  
  
Griggs easily slipped into their fold, just as he always did with strangers. He was the socialest of all the butterflies Sam knew. At the moment, Griggs was over at the pool table with some of the guys, beer in hand and making bets. Sam glanced up just in time to witness Griggs flicking a bill on to the green felted table, which Peder snatched up. As for Jameson, he was sitting at the table in the corner behind Sam, people watching and humming along to Joe Tex.  
  
The one person Sam was hoping to see there was absent, leaving him to sit and fidget with a deck of cards and have the smallest of small talk with Juliette, the lone female stationed at Thule. As he waited for Kate, he racked his brain for a conversation opener to approach her with. It seemed to be a losing battle, however. The Cavaliers was his last resort on the helicopter, leaving him with nothing else now.  
  
Amazing how swiftly such thoughts abandoned him when their input was needed most.  
  
Kate arrived just around the time Sam gave up on the stretch for a topic, but he was delighted when she wandered his way.  
  
As she passed behind his chair, he could hear Jameson say, "Hey. How's it goin', girl?"  
  
Sam smirked at that. Jameson always had a way with women, but Sam would not relent. Kate, even in the very short time they knew each other, was enthralling in a way which he hadn't experienced before.  
  
In their meager lounge of two chairs and a small couch, Kate took the middle of the couch, sitting beside Juliette, who in turn was closest to Sam's chair. The women greeted each other, and he returned the cards to the overcrowded little coffee table.  
  
She and Sam opened their mouths to say hello right as one of the Thule researchers, Henrik, according to Juliette, took the seat on Kate's other side. She exchanged a short smile with Sam in place of the greeting.  
  
Henrik offered Kate a small dish of an unidentifiable substance, asking, “Have you ever tasted this before?” Even at his distance, Sam caught a whiff of the thing's awful smell.  
  
A man with a box of beer passed one to Sam. He glanced back over in time to see Kate give the dish a politely, though futilely veiled look of alarm. “No, I haven't.”  
  
Juliette told her bluntly, “It tastes very bad.”  
  
Olav joined them next in the chair by Henrik and made a face. "Lutefisk."  
  
Henrik either didn't see Olav's disgust, or didn't care. "I think it's about time someone broke into the stash."  
  
"It's going to smell in here all winter," Olav complained.  
  
Henrik grinned. "The smell of home!"  
  
"That is not the smell of home."  
  
“Gentlemen. Ladies." They all turned their attention to Halvorson, who stood in the center of the room.  
  
The man continued into the subsequent quiet, "After a short but thorough investigation, of our... visitor, I can say, unequivocally, that I have never seen anything on any cellular level like what we have in that other room. And the impact of this find will be felt for thousands of years. From this point on, the world as we know it has forever been altered."  
  
Sam's stomach seemed unsure how to feel about all this. It was a little overwhelming, to say the least. And that no one other than he and Jameson appeared bothered by this huge discovery was surreal in itself.  
  
He noticed Kate out of the corner of his eye. As Halvorson spoke, she looked freshly chastised by him. It was obvious she was trying to keep a level stare at Halvorson, to be as attentive as the rest of them, but her eyes kept falling to the floor.  
  
"You, my friends, will all be immortalized as the people who made this discovery," the man said. Sam was under no delusions that the Sea King crew would be included in that memory, but at least they had bragging rights. Maybe they could get a picture with the thing as a souvenir.  
  
Suddenly, from behind him, a chair screeched back and one of the men burst out something in Norwegian. He was likely the one Griggs mentioned who didn't speak or fully understand English.  
  
The room toasted with the Norwegian.  
  
Continuing the celebration, Olav pulled a ukulele from the shadow of his chair and strummed. Henrik lit up and shifted toward the man as they started sing. It was a song in another language, growing lighter and skippier as the two crescendoed until everyone could hear.  
  
"Here." Sam held out the beer bottle he'd been given to Kate. He had cracked it open, but it was otherwise untouched. Fortunately, she didn't have hear his voice to spot the offer.  
  
"No, thanks," she said over the din, "I'm picky about alcohol."  
  
"But it's foreign alcohol!" Sam wiggled the bottle at her. "At least give it a shot."  
  
She donned a faint smirk, then left their tight little lounge for the bar, only briefly, and returned with a shot glass.  
  
"A shot," she said, before handing it to him. Dutifully, Sam poured the liquid and offered it back.  
  
Sitting between them, Juliette raised her own beer to the two Americans, who returned the gesture. The toast unspoken, the three took a drink.  
  
As soon as the shot was downed, Kate turned her dark eyes to him, very unimpressed. "You got anything better than this cough syrup?"  
  
Sam grimaced as the taste hit him as well. In full agreement, he called over his shoulder, "Hey, Griggsey!"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You wanna go out and get the captain's stash?" Griggs would know why he wouldn't do it himself.  
  
"Sure, no problem." As Griggs ambled by, he patted Sam's shoulder and sent him a knowing look. Yeah, he understood. "I'm on it."  
  
It was about then that the dancing started. First the one who didn't speak English, then Jonas, and Peder stomped the butt of his pool stick along to the beat. Others joined in, clapping. At some point the radio was muted so the Norwegians could sing their tune.  
  
It was quite a show, but Sam was too distracted to watch the men's merriment. Kate was stunning, wearing a wide grin that brought out the apples of her cheeks. Her dimples were soft, and her eyes so bright, it was like Halvorson wasn't even on the same continent.  
  
Juliette caught his enraptured stare. Instead of calling him out on it, she continued to slap her hand against her knee and chuckled at him.  
  
Abruptly, as though galvanized by an internal force, Kate unzipped her vest pocket and pulled out a fold of papers.  
  
Speaking above the music, she said to Sam, "Lucky for you, I packed my favorite coffee mug in newspaper." She passed him the crinkled pages. "Maybe you'll find what you're looking for in there."  
  
Immediately, he was grinning like a fool, and he didn't care.  
  
"I owe you one," he said. No intention to read through it then while he had her attention, he set the paper behind the leg of his chair. "Possibly two, depending on the scores."  
  
Kate soaked in the jubilant atmosphere. She observed the room until something over at the bar caught her curiosity. Following her view, for the first time he spotted the string of multicolored lights strung up over the bar, and the small, fake, bebobbled fir tree on a shelf behind it. How he hadn't noticed it in the last day was a mystery.  
  
"I suppose y'all gotta spend the holidays here," he commented. Juliette saw what they were looking at, and nodded.  
  
"Yes. It is part of the job." She shrugged. "We celebrate Christmas as much as our supplies allow, and it is special to us to be together, but of course, we miss our Christmases back home."  
  
When it was clear that the two Americans were listening for more, Juliette continued, "In France, my family would go to midnight mass at my grandmother's favorite cathedral. She passed away many years ago, but we all seem to have a sort of... nostalgia for that place." She paused, lost in a memory. A gentleness came over her. "Ever since I was a little girl, I've loved stopping at night to see the beautiful displays set up in the shop windows, too... Only now that I'm here do I realize all of these things I have taken for granted. I think all of us have experienced this."  
  
"You must have made a lot of sacrifices for this job," Kate said.  
  
Juliette nodded. "It's strange to be without my family, and I miss them very much, but we here are something of a family as well."  
  
Sam and his crew found a similar kinship over the years, but even as he and Jameson grew up together, they were never forced to stay together under the same roof, every day, for years. He loves Jameson, but certainly the two of them would need a break at times. It's not like Thule's inhabitants could simply walk to the park or drive to the grocery store when they needed space.  
  
Kate hummed. "Does Thule have any holiday traditions?"  
  
"Well..." Juliette pondered the question. "Lars puts out a few nisse dolls. I believe that's how Karl pronounced it."  
  
"A nisse doll?" he asked.  
  
"They are a traditional part of the holiday season in Norway," she said. "They look like--" Leaning forward, she pointed at the top of a shelf across the room. "See there? It looks like a garden gnome. That is one of his nisse dolls."  
  
Even from such a distance, the ruddy face of the doll had an eerie life to it. Almost sinister. Atop its head was a pointed cap, and from its jaw curled a short white beard.  
  
"I am not sure what the significance is," Juliette told them, "but he places them around the facility. Henrik found one in the tool shed last year."  
  
"I don't think I'd like runnin' into that," said Sam.  
  
"It is startling to come across one in the middle of the night," Juliette agreed, "but I've made my peace with them."  
  
"Has anyone else brought along their customs?" Kate asked.  
  
"Actually..." The French woman lowered her voice and they leaned in closer to hear. "Every Christmas, my family bakes a King Cake. Do you know of these?" When both Americans responded the negative, she went on to say, "Inside, the baker hides a small figurine, and whoever finds the figurine in their piece is considered king or queen for the day."  
  
Juliette's eyes subtly skittered around, looking for listeners. "On Christmas day, when Lars bakes Julekake, I put a hazelnut in the dough. He doesn't tell anyone that he saw me. We like to see who finds it in their piece."  
  
"And no one knows why it keeps happening?" asked Kate.  
  
Juliette shook her head. "I don't think they have realized that it's happened each Christmas since we stationed here. It has only been two years."  
  
This was an interesting idea, thought Sam, though he wondered how often someone chipped a tooth on the figurines. "What happens when they're crowned king?"  
  
"In my family, they receive a small gift and are expected make the cake next year. But here, I simply like to see who finds it. Their reactions are comical."  
  
The social nature of these pastimes did not escape Sam's notice. It was something he thought about often, especially during the holiday seasons: the activities he and his mother missed out on due to their lack of family. After all, his mother had remained a single parent throughout his life, and they were estranged from the rest of her relatives, which limited the scope of their activities.  
  
This was the reason, dating back to his youth, that sparked his desire for a family of his own making. He yearned for the day he could bring them home to his mother and spend a lively holiday together.  
  
Juliette and Kate straightened from their secretive huddle, so Sam did the same.  
  
In a voice more appropriate for the loud room, Kate commented, "I wouldn't have pegged Lars as the baking type." By her eyes' sharp cut to the man who didn't know English, Sam concluded he was Lars.  
  
"Lars is like our big brother, or guardian." Juliette zeroed in on something over Sam's shoulder. "Karl is also good at nannying us."  
  
It wasn't until the something responded, "What are you gossiping, Jul?" that Sam looked back to see Karl, the one with the glasses, sipping his beer just feet away.  
  
She tried to hide a sly expression behind a mask of innocence. "I was telling them about Thule's mother hens. Kate, Carter, this is Karl, mother hen number one."  
  
"I wouldn't coddle if everyone stopped giving me good reason," said Karl. "For example." With his bottle, he gestured to the boisterous men prancing around the room just in time for Jonas and Lars to heave into a mighty chest bump which sent Lars to the floor. His belly laugh rolled on even after he hit the carpet.  
  
After that and a shake of his head, Karl crossed the room when Colin waved him over, leaving the three of them to enjoy Lars bouncing right back into the spectacle. Hands on autopilot, Sam took another swig of his beer and regretted it instantly.  
  
"If you do not mind my asking, how do you celebrate?" Juliette asked them. "I have not had the chance to experience a true American Christmas."  
  
Sam hummed. "I don't think I have, either. Not the big tree, fancy feast, mountain of gifts kind, anyway. Ma and I hole up in her apartment and watch movies. White Christmas, A Wonderful Life, you know. Never missed a year."  
  
"I'm satisfied as long as there are lights," said Kate. She shrugged. "I've never been invested in the holidays, but in my family, every year, my brothers and I each contribute a new ornament to our parent's trees."  
  
"Trees?" interjected Sam. "As in multiple?"  
  
"They have a lot of ornaments."  
  
He tried to imagine her gluing popsicle sticks and macaroni together like a kindergartner, and what an image it was, but it occurred to him where her true inspiration likely sprung from.  
  
So he teased, "How many of your, ah, contributions are made of skulls and bones?"  
  
It earned him a pleased huff. "Enough."  
  
Juliette covered a titter with her hand before saying, "Kate. May I trade seats with you? I remember something I need to tell Henrik."  
  
The canny twinkle in the French woman's eye didn't slip Sam's notice. She had her way, and suddenly he was sharing closer company with Kate.  
  
They stopped to appreciate the energy in the room. It was remarkable, he thought, that this room full of individuals meshed so easily, as if they shared many more years together than the two Juliette mentioned. It was only his second day, and he could already see what she meant when she said they were a sort of family.  
  
After a few minutes, he turned to his companion and asked, “You homesick yet?”  
  
With a another look around at the others, she said, “No. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Most of us can only dream of this.”  
  
Sam admired her enthusiasm. Too bad he didn't quite share it. “Is it everything you hoped it would be?”  
  
She hummed. “A little colder than I could fathom back home, but otherwise, yeah.”  
  
“Really?” he asked, surprised. “Being holed up with a bunch of foreigners in the middle of the frigid nowhere is your idea of a good time, huh?”  
  
“Just the right amount of socialization.” Another smile. The more of those she doled out, the more covetously he accepted them.  
  
"Me and the guys have been doing this for years," he said. "Been all over the world, but rarely ever in one place very long." Sam eyed the room. "Hardly get to know anyone before we have to leave, right? Doesn't help that everybody already knows each other. We're the invaders."  
  
Accompanying a nod, she said, "I'm not quite sure where to be."

“I mean, look at that.” He jerked his head at the men hovering around the bar, “Even that tight-ass Halvorson's already buddies with Edvard.”

“Well everyone needs a friend, right? Even tight-asses.”

Chuckling, he said, “I suppose that's true. You in the market for one?” The impulse to drop his head in his hands hit instantaneously. Damn his runaway tongue. He tried to school his features to hide the hot rush of mortification.

Her brow ticked up. “A friend, or a tight-ass?”

Unsure what to say, he let the question hang. Instead, he stood and put out a hand, supine.

She picked up his intent easily enough. For the second time since they met, her lips twisted with regret.

“C'mon. You're going to be immortalized! We've got to celebrate.”

“I thought that's what the alcohol was for.”

Juliette and Henrik's eyes were on them, he could feel it, but continued, “What's the matter, Kate? Don't dance?”

“Not really,” she said, though something about the way she sat on the edge of her seat told him she was amendable to the idea, but it would be up to him to take the reins.

“C'mere.”

And that was all it took. She accepted his hand and locked eyes with him as he backed them out onto the unofficial dance floor. Blessedly, the music didn't stop a their invasion.  
  
The fact of the matter was, he didn't necessarily know how to do this either; slow dancing didn't exactly have a place in that moment, and he didn't really know any other kind.  
  
Determined to see it through, however, he took her hand and her waist—her other hand landed on his shoulder as a reflex—then spun them like they were figures in a music box. They came more alive with each turn until their speed and movement matched the song. Kate adapted easily to the lively pace and simple patterns as they twirled in circles as wide as they dared.  
  
Cheeks tinging a misty red, Kate said lowly, "My boss is right over there."  
  
Sam couldn't see anything beyond her but blurs of color, and he doubted she could see either. "Remember what I said about bosses?"  
  
"'Don't have them,'" she repeated dryly. Still, it seemed to help her shake off the bulk of the embarrassment.  
  
Next they knew, a ring of three men formed around them, their hands connected in the air as they moved in a counter circle, laughing and singing along to the song.  
  
By this point, with the novelty of it all, Sam and Kate were laughing like kids. The men surrounding them broke apart and came back like it was a real folk dance.  
  
A wild hair had the two Americans whirling in wider circles, truly like children, just to see how far they could push it. Their eyes locked again. They could see each other growing bolder with the encouragement of the booming laughter in the background. Or maybe it was their own--  
  
Between one fathom and the next, Kate slipped from his hold. He lunged to catch her, but she was saved by the side of the pool table.  
  
Everything felt off-kilter from the abrupt stop, which kept their breathless laughter rolling as she stabilized herself with the table against her hips. Sam was at her side, clamping a hand on the wooden ledge of the table for his own support.  
  
They shared elated grins while the party continued on around them. Caught in the corner of Kate's lips, he couldn't help but notice, was a lock of her deep brown hair. Without a thought, he reached up to brush it away, but as intimate a gesture it was, doing so snapped them out of their exhilaration. Their dizzy laughs died away.  
  
Lars, Jonas, and Peder's rollicking persisted, holding their eyes for a strained moment while their focus was internal. Sam opened his mouth to say anything, but Kate turned to face the pool table with purpose.  
  
"Do you play?" she asked, voice stable, like nothing had happened. Her fingertips rubbed at the green felt running up the table's inner walls.  
  
Sam breathed out in relief and turned with her. "You would think."  
  
"By choice, or circumstance?" Her tone hinted at a tease.  
  
"Guess I just never had the chance." He planted his hands on the ledge. "You?"  
  
At some unknown point, the men's song had changed. Though this one was no less spirited than the last.

“Learned in college,” she said. “The options were pool, or foosball. I figured I would run into more pool tables in the span of my life.”

“Guess you made the right choice,” he said. “Care to teach me?”

“Care to learn?”  
  
“I've got nothing but time.”

She took to teaching like a fish to water. As they stood there, he listened intently to her explanations, throwing in questions if he had them. It wasn't long, however, before they were interrupted.

Jameson thundered down the hallway and into the room, out of breath and raving, “It broke out!”  
  
Sam chuckled faintly, along with the others, although something seemed off. Maybe there was something special to that Norwegian beer after all.

“Cuckoo!” someone hooted.

“It ain't a damn joke, man! The frickin' thing's alive! I was in the room, man, looking a the ice; the frigging thing jumped out!”

The room absorbed this for a beat and then everyone was bustling out the door, disturbed and determined to see for themselves.

"I expect a full lesson later,” Sam told Kate as they jogged down the hall.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I adore these characters so much, I would love to continue this story. However, I can't seem to come up with an interesting plot.
> 
> I have some detail ideas for continuing into the actual Thing plot of the film, but I'm having trouble justifying a rosy-lensed rendition of the same plot. I almost want to rewrite how it plays out, continuing into the Outpost 31 arc of the 1982 film, but again, I can't find a reason to go for it.
> 
> That said, if anyone has an idea that they would be interested in sharing with me, I would gladly give it a go.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
